


Best Behaviour

by starsandgraces



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-14
Updated: 2010-10-14
Packaged: 2017-10-12 16:00:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/126622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starsandgraces/pseuds/starsandgraces
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Being on your best behaviour doesn't mean "not getting caught". Especially if you get caught.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Best Behaviour

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by [withthepilot](http://withthepilot.livejournal.com/)

Their guests are important. _Very_ important. So important, in fact, that even Kirk's been telling crewmembers to be on their best behaviour since their arrival. Normally, he just tells them to keep it out of plain sight—which is fine with Chekov, who seems to get off on sneaking around.

Sulu doesn't mind either, most of the time. Above all else, space is boring, and Chekov's games spice things up when there aren't any away missions to fuck up or nothing's trying to eat or have sex with the ship (something that happens more often than anyone wants to admit to and is the main reason they're hosting the ambassadors in a very public, very highly populated sector of space). This time, however, he suspects they might actually get into trouble for it if they're caught.

He's a little unsure when Chekov starts sending him messages over channels that are quite probably public, but Chekov assures him they've been encrypted so thoroughly that no one would even be aware of their existence. And Chekov being Chekov, it's almost certainly true. Sulu would still feel a little better if he'd stop sending things like _I want to feel the weight of your thick, hard cock on my tongue, Hikaru_ and _I love it when you come down my throat_.

At lunch, Chekov manages to make macaroni and cheese look like the most erotic meal ever invented. Sulu has no idea how he's doing it.

"That's unfair," he says.

"What is?" Chekov asks innocently. He licks a speck of cheese off his lower lip, then wipes his mouth delicately with a paper napkin.

They spend the afternoon apart, which would be a relief if not for the fact that Chekov seems to have hacked his PADD. Every so often, a picture of one or both of them in some kind of compromising position pops up on top of whatever he's working on. Sulu really wants to be irritated with him, but his umpteenth erection of the day disagrees.

After three and a half hours of it, Sulu shoves his PADD under his bed and goes to stare at plants in the botany lab, wondering if any of them have some kind of _anti_ -sex pollen that might just last for the duration of the visit.

He goes back to his quarters to change into his dress uniform, an hour before he needs to be at the reception planned for that evening. He's just finished dressing and is checking his hair in the mirror when his door chimes. Sulu knows exactly who it is, so he puts off answering for as long as he can without being rude.

But Chekov seems to have given up, since all he does is smile and ask Sulu if he's ready to go.

Unfortunately for Sulu, Chekov looks amazing in his dress uniform; a fact which, in the end, is probably what grinds away the last of Sulu's resolve and makes him give in. "Okay, fine," he says as they're walking along a corridor. "But we have to be at the reception in half an hour, so make it quick."

"Oh, _finally_ ," Chekov says. He drags Sulu into some sort of tiny storage room without even seeming to think about it.

"What if—"

"No one is going to disturb us, Hikaru." He drops to his knees and noses against the front of Sulu's trousers, then pulls down the zipper with his teeth. Sulu decides not to disagree. He twists Chekov's curls around his fingers and sighs as Chekov wraps his long fingers around Sulu's cock and licks a teasing stripe up the underside.

"C'mon, do it now," he says. Chekov glares, but he parts his lips and lets Sulu's cock slide past them, achingly slowly. Sulu bites back a curse, watching intently as his length disappears into Chekov's mouth; then he drops his head back against the wall and closes his eyes. He concentrates on the alternating sensations of Chekov's tongue finding every sensitive spot imaginable and an increasingly insistent suction, pulling what feels like every last drop of blood out of Sulu's brain and into his cock.

Chekov knows exactly what he's doing, and all too soon Sulu's idly thinking about warning him that he's about to come when he hears voices from the corridor. The door slides open without any other warning, flooding the cupboard with light. Sulu's dick leaves Chekov's mouth with a wet-sounding pop as he turns to gape at the worst possible person to be standing there: Kirk.

" _No_..." Sulu says, trailing off into a kind of gasping whine. Then, just as Chekov's taking a deep breath—presumably to make some bullshit excuse to the captain—he comes across Chekov's face in thick, heavy, unmistakable spurts. Chekov lets out a sort of spluttery, snorting noise and reaches up to rub at his left eye.

"Oh my god," says Kirk. His eyes look as if they're about to fall out of his head.

"Keptin," Chekov begins, then stops abruptly. A strange expression passes across his face and he sneezes come straight onto Kirk's highly polished dress boots. Sulu is momentarily terrified that he's going to start laughing hysterically and not be able to stop, but he manages to get himself under control, just barely.

"Oh my _god_ ," Kirk repeats. He immediately backs out of the room, almost hammering on the panel outside to make the door slide closed again. "Um, occupied," he says to someone outside.

There's a long silence from the other side of the door, then they hear McCoy saying, "Dammit, Jim. Please tell me that's mayonnaise," and that's when Sulu loses it entirely. He clasps both hands over his mouth and doubles over, his eyes watering with the effort to keep his laughter silent.

"Stop it," Chekov hisses, but he's smiling faintly. He digs in his pockets, pulling out a few tissues and wiping his face with them. Then, after an appraising look at Sulu, who is still laughing, he tucks him back into his trousers and zips them up.

Sulu takes another few moments to pull himself together. "I can dress myself," he says belatedly.

"I'm not so sure."

"Do you need me to...?" He gestures towards Chekov's crotch.

"I think you owe me, since you came in my eye in front of the keptin," Chekov says, straightening up. He curls his fingers in the front of Sulu's jacket and leans against him, pressing his cock to Sulu's hip as he hands him the wad of tissues.

"Okay. And later, I'll really make it up to you," Sulu promises, and slips his hand inside Chekov's pants. Chekov sighs and thrusts slightly into his hand, nipping at the side of Sulu's neck as he's stroked. He groans softly and his eyelashes flutter when he comes, tickling the soft skin beneath Sulu's ear.

"Good," Chekov murmurs, while Sulu makes sure he's cleaned everything up.

After a brief stop to rinse out Chekov's eye, dispose of the tissues and double-check that there are no embarrassing sticky patches anywhere, they hurry onwards to the reception. They manage to arrive only a few minutes late and still well before the guests of honour make their entrance.

The captain pointedly avoids the two of them for the entire evening.


End file.
